Finger in the Eye of Fate
by Vathara
Summary: The way the PtB treat their Slayers and Champions, eventually they're going to run out of them. ...Suppose they did. And poached some souls somewhere else. Kanzeon was Not Amused.


A/N: BtVS and Saiyuki, not mine. At all. I blame Ellen Brand for this one…. ;) AU of the Buffy eps "Passion" and "Killed by Death", at the very least. Brief mention of a Robert E. Howard character.

* * *

There are worse places to wake up to who you really are than in the middle of an abandoned Sunnydale factory just as it's burning down. But not many.

"Kanzeon Bosatsu, you _bastard!_ "

"Buffy," Giles said warily, as Jenny Calendar whimpered and hid behind Xander, "you _are_ aware that you're being disrespectful toward one of the five Bodhisattvas who rule Heaven?"

"And I bet se's laughing hir divine ass off." Buffy gave the heavens the finger, and cocked her revolver. "Touch those ear cuffs, Giles, and I will shoot you."

"Spell's over, Buff," Xander stated, trying to casually herd the weeping computer teacher and the rest of his friends away from flames and out the door. "Just like Halloween… I know you didn't get hit by that, Ms. Calendar, but trust me. The memories stuck in your head? Not real. Honest. Let me show you-"

Buffy didn't even glance at the fingers nearing the golden diadem; just shifted her aim. "I _can_ shoot you in the hand, Xander."

"Guys, fire bad, out?" Willow yelped, chain clinking as the crescent blade retreated to her staff.

"Right," Buffy grumbled, uncocking her revolver and holding up an arm. "Hakuryuu!"

The little white dragon dropped out of the rafters, cheeping.

"…Oh, dear lord."

Sunnydale's night was cool and dark and quiet, if you didn't count the fire sirens. Practically speaking, Buffy didn't. The four of them going through towns scattered panic and explosions in their wake the way most road trips scattered fast-food litter-

She had a sudden, aggravating impulse to pound her head against the nearest warehouse wall. Or better yet, someone else's head. Which wouldn't solve anything… but it'd sure make her _feel_ better.

"Don't touch me!"

"Jenny-"

Robe rustling, Buffy got between Ms. Calendar and Giles before the one could yield to hysteria and the other to the undeniable reality of a cheerful, furry white dragon perched on his shoulder. "You're not Kanan. Whatever you remember, whatever you think happened - it didn't happen to you." She paused. "Not that I know what Angelus did before we got here. I bet it was bad, and as soon as we get clear of here, I will stand still and let you take it out on me. But _don't_ take it out on Giles."

"You don't know," Jenny whispered, white-faced, fingering the modest blue dress of a Catholic orphan Angelus had forced her into. "You don't know what he did to his _own sister_ … and she _loved_ him…." Twisting free, she staggered, and threw up.

"Right," Buffy said, half to herself. "Well, that kind of sums up the whole night… guys?" she added, suddenly surrounded by the heat of bodies. "Personal space. It's a concept."

Xander was almost crawling under her left arm, Giles was ever-so-slightly pressed against her right, and Willow was jammed up against her back, bare arms catching the streetlights. "It's not dark out here," Willow complained, not moving. "Not as bright as it was, but… the spell's over. Why isn't it dark?"

"Three guesses," Buffy said dryly, as a leather-clad brunette in casual bondage style sauntered their way, short-shorts making it all too clear that "she" might be a drastic misnomer. "Were we entertaining enough, Master Kanzeon?"

The symbol of love and mercy _tch_ ed. "What a thing for my nephew to say! Though I suppose it's _niece_ , right now…." Touching Jenny's shoulder, Kanzeon cupped her cheek in bright-nailed fingers. "Shh, shh. I know you can't forget… but the memories don't have to be _quite_ so clear."

Bending down, se kissed Jenny on the forehead. The technopagan sighed, and went limp.

Dusting off hir hands, Kanzeon grinned at them. "The rest, you'll have to deal with yourselves. Can't make it _too_ easy, after all. It wouldn't be fair."

"You're responsible for this?" Giles' voice was dangerously quiet.

" _Responsible_ is such a strong word," Kanzeon shrugged. "You know Angelus' history, Watcher. He means to hurt your Slayer, and he probably would have killed your girlfriend to do it. _If_ he hadn't just happened to find a tragic legend of a demon-slayer and his doomed love, and decided it'd be more fun to reenact that _before_ killing you."

"Ethan's spell," Willow realized, wide-eyed. "The dress, that monocle Giles is wearing… Angelus used them as the spell focus, to bring back Kanan and Hakkai. But we weren't wearing costumes!"

"Um." Xander touched one of the bone spikes on his jacket's shoulder, didn't quite dare touch the diadem. "Would it be too much to hope for that we're wearing costumes now?"

Buffy glanced down at her white robe, the dangerous sutra draped over her shoulders. "Would be my guess, yeah." She looked back up at Kanzeon. "Karmic reincarnation bonds. Summon one of us, you get all of us. But since three of us weren't part of the spell, we don't vanish when it breaks. And since Hakkai has to stay if the rest of us are here - _he_ doesn't vanish either."

The bodhisattva applauded. "Brilliant! But then, you always were quick, Sanzo."

 _"I'm not Sanzo."_

A fond smile, as se ruffled Buffy's hair. "You never change."

Stepping away, Kanzeon glanced over hir shoulder. "The question you want to ask, of course, is _why_."

"I'll bite," Xander muttered. "Why?"

"It's a secret!"

The Scoobies facepalmed.

"But I love you guys, so I'll give you a hint." Se winked. "We took steps to make sure there would never be another Minus Wave. But just because that won't happen, doesn't mean other things won't be just as bad."

"Someone's going to mix youkai magic and technology?" Willow squeaked. "Again?"

"Say we solve your problem," Buffy said levelly. "Do we get ourselves back? Us? Who we're _supposed_ to be?"

A knowing smile. "You know me. I'm always generous."

A golden nimbus enfolded hir, and se vanished.

"I know you, all right," Buffy muttered. "That's the problem."

Which was when the adrenaline finally gave out, and the confusion she'd been holding at bay by sheer stubborn force of will crashed down. _I was-_

 _-An orphan in the temple-_

 _-A ditzy blonde in L.A.-_

 _-A lonely god in Heaven-_

 _-My Master died protecting me-_

 _-My Watcher died because I wasn't strong enough-_

 _-We all died trying to save Goku-_

 _-I have to protect the Sutra, and the damn monkey-_

 _-I have to save the world-_

 _-I have to_ get _Kanzeon for this-_

 _-And the demons won't stop coming 'til I die._ _ **Bring 'em on!**_

Familiar fingers brushed her forehead with a prickle of chi, and all went black.

* * *

Willow caught the unconscious Slayer, shakujou dissipating to wherever it rested between battles. "H-Giles?"

 _She almost called me Hakkai_ , the Watcher realized, eyes fixed on the crimson chakra under Buffy's bangs. _And I almost answered to it._ No surprise, perhaps. He'd spent a very intense few minutes as Cho Hakkai, trying to save a mysteriously revived Kanan, before Angelus had realized he might have summoned a _bit_ more demon-slayer than he could handle and yelled for vampiric reinforcements.

Which was just about the time the rest of Hakkai's motley band had crashed in: gun-toting priest, smirking kappa, and grinning Monkey King. All of whom had been more than happy to reduce the demon population of Sunnydale.

 _Xander as Son Goku. All things considered, I believe I'd rather deal with the Hyena again._ "Sanzo was human," Giles answered Willow's worried look. "Buffy may be the Slayer, but she's not nearly as resilient as the youkai we-" _are, no, I'd feel Hakkai's energies pressing against the limiter, and I don't_ "-remember. I suspect the strain of two sets of memories was just too much." He could feel Hakkai's sad, bloody recollections roiling under his own, biding their time. Especially those related to why one born human needed a limiter in the first place….

 _I could take it off. We may have the memories, but we're not youkai. I'd know._

Still. Buffy had sounded very serious about shooting them.

"Is she going to be all right?" Xander touched golden hair, looking as if he wanted to snuggle up to it like a sleeping cat.

"I don't know," Giles answered honestly. "But none of us will be if we stay here." Lifting his arm like a falconer, he nodded to Hakuryuu. "Let's go."

White fur melted into a Jeep's dark steel, and it was all so _familiar…._

 _Stay in the moment._

The trip to 1630 Revello Drive was short, but not short enough. Buffy was muttering in her sleep; English, Chinese, Japanese, and some nameless tongue that sent prickles down his spine mingling into a hazy litany of lethal threats. And some - well, not precisely lethal, but disturbing enough to make Willow's eyes bug and the two males in front surreptitiously check to see if certain organs were still attached.

"We are so dead," Willow said fervently, holding Buffy propped against her in the back seat.

"On the bright side," Xander said cheerfully, "all we have to do is get her hung over, and Deadboy will _never_ know what hit him."

"Xander, that is irresponsible, unethical, and certainly illegal," Giles said severely. But oh, how very tempting.

"Besides, Slayer comes with extra stamina," Willow pointed out. "It was hard enough to get Sanzo drunk. How would we come up with the kind of cash it'd take to get Buffy sloshed?" She caught Giles' glare in the rearview and wilted. "Not that I would do that. Really."

"Oh ye of little faith." Smirking, Xander twisted in his seat, reached into Buffy's sleeve, and pulled out a credit card.

 _Three Aspects, Unlimited._

Ah, yes. There _was_ a reason he had a headache. "Xander," Giles sighed as he stopped in the driveway, "put it back."

"Aww…."

"Oh my god!" Joyce Summers was on them like a motherly wave, clucking over Jenny asleep in the back, but saving most of her worry for the fevered Slayer. "She's burning up… where have you been? What have you been doing? She shouldn't have been at some costume party at the Bronze if she was sick - never mind," she added, climbing in. "Drive!"

"Erk?" Willow managed, squashed into a few less cubic inches than a Chihuahua would have been comfortable with.

"Feverish? Delirious? Blood on her?" Joyce demanded. "Hospital!"

* * *

Glasses clinked together, and Kanzeon sipped hir wine with a satisfied smirk. "Nice work, Janus."

"I always answer a fervent prayer," the god of boundaries and gates said in his double-voice. "But then, my true believers know… be careful what you wish for."

A wave of his hand, and the lotus pool before them glowed into scenes of the past.

Angelus pursuing Jenny through Sunnydale High School, catching her - and instead of snapping her neck or draining her dry, producing a pair of handcuffs and an obscene gag.

Giles, coming home to flowers and champagne… and blood staining his pillow, with a pristine note wrapped around a monocle next to it.

 _Wear this if you want her to live._

The Scoobies finding cops at the crime scene, and their mentor gone with his favorite weapons.

Giles' assault on the Factory, which a smirking Angelus had turned to _Hakkai's_ assault….

That same moment from three other points of view, as dormant power blazed back into its rightful owners-

Leaving Genjyo Sanzo, Sha Gojyo, and Son Goku following the chi-flare of their missing companion. On foot, because Hakuryuu was missing right along with him. Needless to say, the rightful holder of the Maten Sutra was _not happy_.

 _I'm surprised they didn't blow the place up before it had a chance to burn down_ , Kanzeon thought wryly. _Then again; glowing statue, pissed Sanzo - that's a situation with predictable results._ "Show-off," se chuckled, leaning back in hir chair.

"I had to live up to Halloween," Janus said with mock modesty. And cleared his throat. "About that…."

"No permanent harm done," Kanzeon waved it off. "Especially if you give me copies of the photos." Good blackmail material on hir nephew was hard to come by.

Hir smile turned a little less wicked, a little more thoughtful. "At least it let you find them." Se'd been scouring the multiverse for _years_. Every day trickling away a little more hope.

"The way the Powers That Be treat those poor Slayers and their Watchers, I'm not surprised they started running short of Champions," Janus observed. "It's hard to muster the guts to defy demons when no one _ever_ wins." A shrug. "From what my worshippers have found out, the Powers started snatching Champions from other dimensions at least a century ago. But I never thought…."

"They'd be this stupid?" Kanzeon finished. "They probably thought they were being smart. Pull a soul away before it's been judged, or out of a hell? All kinds of alarms go off. Kidnap someone having a well-deserved rest in heaven - you'd be surprised how many higher beings don't notice."

"You did," Janus pointed out.

"Son Goku? Leave free food? And Sha Gojyo would never miss a chance to clean me out at mahjong. And where you find one of them, you find all of them. Eventually." Se scowled. "Two ordinary humans born on a Hellmouth. One Watcher who grew up in such an emotional straightjacket that when he finally got a chance to breathe, he went straight to black magic. And a Slayer raised to be nothing more than a pretty Valley Girl out to snag a high-earning husband. Were the Powers _trying_ to get them killed off?"

"They've done fairly well so far," Janus said cautiously. "You don't have to-"

"Oh yes, I do," Kanzeon said dryly. " _Nobody_ messes with what's mine. The Powers wanted my guys? They're going to _get_ my guys. Right in the teeth." Se gave Janus a wicked grin. "After all, your spells can have such _interesting_ side effects. Especially when they're cast by someone not a true follower. Like Angelus."

The god looked at hir askance. "This is payback for that time with the zombie head and the Mongol horde, isn't it?"

Kanzeon smiled. Brilliantly.

"Just give me a minute to tweak the spell…." Water rippled as Janus dabbled his fingers in the pond. "Done. You're going to have to push the power into it, though. I didn't have too much trouble suppressing the Slayer on Halloween, but getting the Slayer's demonic power and divine magic to coexist without killing each other-" He shook his head, casting shadows that laughed and wept. "And don't get me started on the monkey!"

"Eh, drink your wine. And cover me." Kanzeon rested hir palm on the water's surface, feeling for the sense of familiar souls. _And… gotcha._

"Best case, they're going to be out of it for hours," Janus warned.

"Then it's a good thing they're in a hospital, isn't it?"

* * *

 _Flu_ , Buffy thought disjointedly, as the room swam around her. _Yeah, it's going around school, sure… no! Mom, you can't leave me_ here!

Her sweaty friends were trying to protest, but some burly-looking orderlies were hauling them off, too. And that was just wrong-

 _Ow!_

Lights out.

…And back, if still wavery. She blinked, squinting one eye closed before concluding that yes, that had been a little boy staring at her through the doorway, before he dashed off with a littler girl, and then a whole swarm of fever-flushed children shuffling fast down the hall.

 _Weird._

But the way the world was melting, it didn't seem at all odd to sense the chilling dread of a man-eating demon, treading patiently down the hall past her room-

Black suit. Black hat. Fangs, and hideously long fingers. He glanced her way once, dismissive, and kept on walking.

… _I know you._

Suddenly furious, she half-fell out of bed, fingers scrabbling for-

Somewhere in the fever-haze, she recalled Giles prying the revolver from her hands.

 _Damn it._

 _But I'm a Slayer. I don't use guns._

And how was a revolver different from using a crossbow? Outside of the much faster kill rate?

 _It's_ different. _I've never- I'm not supposed to-_

Silk rustled under her fingertips, green framing a cream-and-black text that was suddenly all too familiar.

 _The Maten Sutra._

 _No. That's what Kanzeon wants, and se can get hir amusement somewhere else, damn it-_

But there were kids in trouble. And a demon here she didn't know how to kill.

 _Guess Slayers can't be choosers._ Draping the sacred text over her shoulders, she looked at the alien-and-not robes under it-

 _Aha!_

Gun _and_ bullets, tucked into the many, many hidden pockets she had-

No, _Sanzo_ had-

-Worked into the lining of the robes. Trust Hakkai-

 _Giles, he's_ Giles.

-To have figured it out.

 _I don't even know who I am. How can I save anybody else, if I can't save me?_

It didn't matter. It couldn't. Human, youkai, whatever - those were kids in trouble. Somebody had to do something about it. And Slayer or not, she was the only somebody here.

…Not to mention, given they didn't have any gods-given tasks at the moment, Sanzo was definitely not averse to kicking some demon ass.

 _Okay,_ she thought, heading for the door. _Demon stalking kids first. Missing Scoobies second._

And if the floor didn't stop wobbling soon, it was next on the list.

* * *

"Kinky," Xander heard Willow mutter, as she peered blearily at the high-tech manacles binding them to hospital beds. "Oh, I did not just say that…."

"I told you, Doctor, we're not ill!" Giles sounded agitated. Which was bad. Very bad.

"Kinda beg to differ with you on that one, G-man," Xander groaned. Everything itched, like the worst case of chicken pox _ever_.

And then it got worse.

 _Maybe we did get the flu?_

 _"Don't touch that!"_

Latex-gloved hands near Xander's head retreated, and someone swore.

Okay. Giles was beyond mere British agitation. The librarian Watcher actually sounded scared. And _pissed_. The last time Xander had heard that-

Oh. Yeah. _"I can't believe you'd be fool enough to do something like this."_ Right before almost the entire love-spelled female population of Sunnydale, minus one rat-transformed Buffy, pounded down the door to try to kill him. All in all, not one of his finest Valentine's Days.

 _But I didn't do anything this time. Did I?_

"This is a hospital." A stranger's voice, confident and no-nonsense in a way that screamed doctor. "We need to run tests. I'm sorry, but the jewelry has to go."

"There's no test you need to run that would require it," Giles gritted out. "Not for the flu."

"Dr. Backer-" one of the orderlies began.

"Give us some privacy," the doctor requested.

Quiet steps, and the sound of doors. All of which was getting harder to listen to, through the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"You're right," Dr. Backer admitted. "You don't have the flu." A deep sigh. "I apologize for the restraints, but they're for your own safety-"

"You mean _your_ safety," Willow growled, "'Cause when I get out of here - erk. 'M sorry. Not usually like this…."

"Increased aggression is a known side effect of your condition," Dr. Backer said compassionately. "Don't worry. I have other patients to attend to, but we will keep you securely bound until after the lunar effects have subsided. And then… we can discuss containment."

Dead silence. "Giles," Xander croaked, "does the nice, idiot doctor think we're werewolves?"

"Yes," Giles said tightly, "I believe he does."

" _Werewolf_ is such a loaded, unscientific term-" the doctor started.

"But we're not!" Willow protested. "I mean, we'd know! Because, you know, bites, or claw marks, or- or-"

"Unfortunately, we've recently uncovered evidence that the lunar-linked transformative virus can be spread through tainted blood," Dr. Backer said sadly. "We'll need to take a history from you in the morning. Now, about those items-"

" _Dr._ Backer," Giles growled, echoing oddly down the well the world was slipping into, "I know precisely what's wrong with us, to my sorrow, and it has nothing to do with lycanthropy - viral or otherwise. And if you remove the _items_ currently holding it at bay, you and many of the staff of this hospital may not have time to realize your mistake…."

Giles in full British rant mode. Almost enough to distract him, even when the world seemed to melt and his skin burned so much Xander longed to rip it off.

Almost.

* * *

 _Sunnydale_ , Buffy thought darkly, _has got_ way _too many tunnels in it. Like Gyumaoh's palace. Or a half-dozen other youkai warrens I could think of… argh._

Her memories might be playing fifty-two pickup, but there wasn't a moment's confusion about which way to go. If the sense of chi had ever failed her, which it hadn't, screams were as good as a golden thread.

Which was useful, because the walls had an annoying tendency to jump out and clobber her. All she wanted to do was lie down and moan as the fever burned.

But she couldn't. She wouldn't.

 _I am going to kill this thing_ a lot.

At least it was slow. Staggering around a corner into what was probably the hospital's boiler room, she saw the demon was still in Slow Threatening Menace mode, stalking toward the boy who'd led the almost-escape. _Maybe it's a picky eater. Or maybe it's one of Giles' whatchacallums, phobiaphages, and it eats fear-_

The demon knelt over the boy, holding his head steady. Its eyes bugged out, extending on stalks, splitting open to latch onto the boy's forehead. The kid screamed.

 _Like Celia screamed._

And while the Valley Girl in her might hesitate, the Slayer would use any weapon handy. Even one as flimsy as inked silk.

 _"Makai Tenjyo!"_

No time - no strength - to bind it fully. Holy magic blasted the demon off its victim, and the fight was on.

It wasn't fast, but right now it felt like an ant could outrun fever-weak muscles. A demonic fist to the face, a grab, and she was flying.

 _Bruises on my back tomorrow, can't let Mom see-_

Kick, swing - too slow, damn it, another pipe….

 _Vision's shot. No way I can fire, not with the kids-_

Kick to the ugly face. _Landed_.

 _Not as tall as I used to be. Remember that._

And now the fight was almost even; it was dazed, fangs loose and bloody as it snarled and came at her. It grabbed for her shoulder-

Too many fights to count blew through her mind in memory's wind. In one fluid motion, she dropped under its lunge, stepped in, palm-heel struck _up-_

 _Crack._

 _Whoa._ She wobbled as the body collapsed, room spinning around her. Beads of dark blood flecked her hands, oily and itchy as poison ivy. _Did I do that?_

Sanzo had _stopped_ plenty of youkai strikes, sure. Inherent holy magic ground a certain amount of youki-driven momentum to a halt, to the point he could grab a demonic blade between two fingers and stand a fair chance of stopping the blow like a steel wall. And he could trade punches with the best of them. On a _human_ level. For one-on-demon fights… that was why he packed a gun, three not-quite-youkai idiots, and a sutra that gave new meaning to the phrase _holy terror_.

Hakkai could have made that strike. Gojyo, if he hadn't just sliced and diced the demon first. Goku, definitely - though the monkey probably would have left demon splattered all over the wall.

 _A Slayer's got low-grade youkai strength. Who'd have thought?_

Small hands steadied her. She looked down, half-expecting to meet worried gold.

Nope. Blue. And human. "You okay?" she managed. Pretty sure he would be; any kid who'd led a mass flight from a monster had it together better than half the adults in Sunnydale. "What's your name?"

"Ryan," came the solemn reply. "You killed the monster."

"It's what I do," she said, equally matter-of-fact. "This life, next life, past life… always seems to be what I end up doing. Not because I'm a really good person," she added, before the poor innocent kid could get the wrong idea. "Just - somebody has to. Wherever there's real monsters, there's real people who fight them. Like me. And you."

"I didn't… we just ran away…." He looked down.

"You didn't let it kill you," she said seriously. "I'd call that a win for the good guys."

"I thought he was Death." Ryan looked back up. "But you can't kill Death."

"Nah. Death is this cool Goth chick with an ankh. Or sometimes a bunch of idiot samurai in black, depends which part of the universe you're in…." She shook her head, trying to get everything to settle once and for all.

"So what's your name?" Ryan asked.

 _Good question._

 _Whoever I was, however this happened,_ Sanzo-memories murmured, _this is a new life now. Don't forget the past, but pick up its lessons, and move on to the next incarnation._

Meaning this incarnation. Here. Now. "I'm Buffy," she nodded, "the Vampire Slayer."

"Vampires are real, too?" One of the little girls dared.

"Oh yeah," Buffy nodded, staggering a little as she helped Ryan round the little survivors up. "And if our fearless leader here can show us the way out, I'm a little turned around, I'll tell you all about them. Survival tip number one: Never, _ever_ invite anyone in after dark…."

Wiping off her hands on her hospital robe as they walked, she made a note to scrub to the elbows next chance she got. She'd had allergic reactions to demonic goo once or twice before, and it was never, ever pretty.

 _Hives_ and _fever. Oh yeah, tonight - this morning - is not going to be fun._

…And why, just for a moment, could she have sworn she heard a celestial _Oops_?

* * *

That was the problem with dealing with Kanzeon, Janus thought unhappily, prying at long-nailed fingers wrapped around his throat. Se was so much fun, so fond of the kinds of chaos just a touch of divine meddling could cause in the mortal world, it was easy to forget how fiercely se cared about hir family.

"Oops?" Kanzeon echoed dangerously. "That's my niece down there."

Breathless, Janus could only nod.

"This dimension is not Shangri-La."

Another nod.

"And she certainly hasn't bathed in the blood of a thousand youkai-"

Desperate, Janus shook his head.

Surprised, Kanzeon let go. "Really?"

"Really really," Janus coughed. Got his breath back. "She's one of the longest-living Slayers ever. She stopped keeping track of how many vampires she dusted six months after she was Called. There were just too many. Now, demons aren't exactly youkai, most of them, and dust isn't exactly blood…."

"But it was enough to set something off," Kanzeon observed. "What did you do?"

"Who, me?"

Elegant eyes narrowed.

"It was only just a little… the humans probably won't even notice, much…."

 _Grab._

"What," Kanzeon bit out, eye to eye and nose almost squashing Roman nose, "did you do?"

"I made sure Angelus used dragon blood in the spell don't hurt me!" he babbled.

Deliberately, Kanzeon put him down.

 _Uh-oh._

"Dragon blood," se said levelly.

"Well, have _you_ ever tried making a spell channel divine power through a Slayer's body?" Janus protested. "It's like making a vampire hold onto a cross. She would have been cinders! I had to make sure there was something that could mediate between the demon and the saint. Can you think of anything better than dragon blood?" He shrugged, shadows dancing. "Besides. Making the spell exotic made it more likely Angelus would actually try it. He's weird that way."

"Good argument," Kanzeon allowed. "But Janus? When was the last time you visited the Dragon Court in Shangri-La?"

"Er… a while ago?" The dragons of Kanzeon's native realm weren't all that fond of chaos. Which was a pity. They were _beautiful_ when they were angry.

"And while you were there, did you notice how many dragons have kami blood?"

Janus blinked. "There are dragons with kami ancestors?"

Kanzeon stifled a groan. "You were right. Dragon blood and divine power blends very well. _Too_ well. And even in a human incarnation, that's my niece down there. My _kami_ niece."

"Oh." He grinned, sweating. "Oops?"

The resulting explosion took out three marble pillars, turned the crow on a bust of Pallas Athena white, and flung out three of the koi in the lotus pond as very confused parakeets.

"It's only for one incarnation!" Janus protested, hiding behind an iron rosebush. "You know how humans explain things away; they'll probably just think they're press-ons-"

"Yeah," Kanzeon said with a certain awful glee, charging another blast. "And when I catch you, it's _only_ going to hurt for a few centuries."

"Promises, promises!" Smirking, Janus dashed off, ready for a serious game of power-tag.

After all, Kanzeon and hir dragons had a lot in common. Se was never prettier than when se was angry.

* * *

 _There is no way, on this world or any other_ , Giles thought through the blood clawing at his brain, _that this can_ possibly _end well._

"Keep talking to me, Giles!"

Willow. Right. Still coping, despite the _changes_ \- and thank the gods the kappa was only half youkai. Or should that be, thank one god in particular….

"Giles!"

"Talk," he managed, teeth straining against the limiter to become fangs; so far, straining in vain. "About what?"

"Anything. Everything. Just let me know you're in there!"

As Xander was decidedly not, whimpering in bed beside them in a way that sent chills down Giles' spine… and broke his heart.

 _Sanzo knows when Goku is in distress. If Buffy's not here… something must be wrong._

At least that idiot Dr. Backer had left them for the night. Something about patients missing on rounds, if he'd overheard the orderly right. And the very fact he had overheard the man at that distance was disturbing confirmation of how far things had progressed.

 _Focus. Just - try._ "Well. Jenny has apparently been scarred for life-"

"Not your fault," Willow said quickly.

"-The three of us are transforming into youkai-"

"Okay, we can kinda blame that one on you. Sort of…."

"-And at this rate, I give it no more than an hour before Xander breaks both our bonds and his limiter, at which point this hospital becomes ground zero for one very angry Monkey King." Giles sighed. "I suppose we could break out before that happens, but - at least this ward seems reasonably secure. It could give innocents a chance to flee."

"Giles," Willow said sadly, "if that limiter breaks, steel walls are only going to slow him down, and you know it."

"True," the Watcher admitted. "At least things can't possibly get worse."

"…I can't believe you just said that," Willow groaned.

"What? What could- how could-?"

"Did you forget Buffy's still out there?" the redhead pointed out. "With a fever, a head-full of Sanzo memories, _and a gun?_ "

Silence.

Gunshots.

"Steel walls, did you say?"

"Looked like, on our way in," Willow agreed. "Some kind of viral containment unit."

"Ah. But it's not, by any chance, meant to keep things _out?_ "

"I kind of doubt it."

"Right," Giles said morbidly. "We're doomed."

A bittersweet chime beside them, like golden glass breaking.

"…Oh yeah."

* * *

"Idiot," said the young blonde in plain ivory vestments with a green-and-white stole over her shoulders, staring down at the disarmed, bruised, and handcuffed security guard.

"Grade-A moron, yes ma'am," Sergeant Colton said respectfully, eyeing the three grinning privates in his charge until they sobered. Sure, she was young and pretty to be in holy orders, but that didn't mean the uniform didn't demand respect. Not that you saw that many priests with a good right hook, either. But then again, this was Sunnydale. Whole area was flooded with Hostile Sub-Terrestrials. Stood to reason any members of the clergy would either lock themselves into the church at night, or… well, take a different approach. "Er… Reverend?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm kind of new on the job." Though her smile had the rough edge of a seasoned veteran. The blonde glanced back at the wide-eyed kid by the elevator who'd caused the guard's near-lethal panic. "Better get back to your floor before the nurses totally flip out."

"Aww…."

"Trust me, the excitement's probably over for the night," the blonde said confidently. "Besides. Contagious much?"

"Eep!" The boy dashed into the elevator, pushing buttons until it closed.

"What's he got?" Private Forrest asked warily.

"Flu," the blonde said plainly. "Nasty strain. Hope you had your shots." Another rueful grin. "I had mine. Guess I didn't get lucky."

"We did," Colton assured her. Working for the Initiative, you got vaccinated for a heck of a lot more than the flu. Though there still wasn't a vaccination for the kind of cases they were arranging to transport. Brr. "One of Dr. Backer's patients?"

"Guess that's why he's not here to meet us," Forrest muttered.

"Kind of a mass panic in the kids' ward," the blonde nodded. "One of the girls… died, yesterday. The rest were sure they'd be next. I had to talk them out of someplace pretty spooky." Her gaze was oddly hard, before her stance eased. "Think they've turned the corner now, though." She folded her hands together, the picture of priestly rectitude. "So he's meeting you? You guys look very official."

Which was one of the politer ways Sergeant Colton had ever heard anyone refer to full combat kit. Definitely some kind of priest. What the reverend might say if she knew they were packing silver-alloy bullets, he didn't want to know. "CDC, ma'am," he stated, sticking to the cover story. "Dr. Backer identified some cases of aberrant yellow fever. We need to take the victims for treatment, and you'll probably see a lot of mosquito spray trucks for the next few nights." Which would give a plausible reason why no one else was at risk, cover the roving patrols searching for the source lycanthrope, and nicely explain the eventual inevitable deaths.

"In there?" The blonde looked toward the secure ward behind them. "Those poor souls. Someone should minister to them."

They might have been souls before the bites. They were HSTs now, and there was no way Colton would let them rant and rave about still being human to an innocent young pastor. "Sorry, ma'am, that won't be possible-"

 _Click._

The Smith & Wesson pressed against his temple was small, but at this range, the five-shot revolver would definitely do the job. "Have your men stand down," the blonde said levelly.

"Sergeant!"

"Do as she says." There was death in her eyes, and he hadn't even seen her _move_. How could a woman not yet twenty have that kind of experience? "Let's talk about this."

Cool as any combat veteran, she was whispering something under her breath. Didn't sound English. More like, _"Makusanmanda basaradansen…."_

"We're here on government business," Colton persisted. "Maybe those are friends of yours in there, but you've never seen what the disease they've got can do. It's an ugly way to die-"

 _"On kirikiri on kirikiri."_

"Just let us do our jobs, and- What… the… hell?"

 _"Untara takanman!"_

He couldn't move. _Nobody_ could move, if that sudden, freaked-out cursing from his men was any indicator.

She put the gun away, and shrugged. "Relax. It's not permanent. I just really don't want to shoot you if I don't have to."

She stepped past them toward the secure ward, out of sight. He couldn't so much as turn his eyes to look at her.

"Piece of advice?" Floated back to them. "Get out of Sunnydale. The locals do a lot better handling the problems than anybody in a uniform."

"What's going on here?" blustered Dr. Backer, somewhere near the ward.

"Don't know what kind of game you're playing, Doc," the blonde said bluntly, "but right now? Get those doors open."

Something howled, and metal screamed.

* * *

 _Shouldn't have taken the time to scrub off…._

Buffy ducked as one door careened into the wall, clipping Dr. Backer and dropping him in a semi-conscious heap. It'd _seemed_ like a good idea. Even if something inside that felt of Goku was going frantic, the guys had to _know_ she was coming for them. And ducking into a bathroom to ditch the hospital gown for more outré - but a lot less bloody - robes had felt like the best way to start talking everybody's way out of here.

The other ward door creaked as it hung at an angle. And in the opening….

Claws, check. Long hair and pointed ears, check. No limiter, and slitted gold eyes without any trace of humanity….

 _Houston, we have Son Goku. What did I do in a past life to deserve this?_

Oh. Right.

Okay. Get in, try not to get killed, restore Goku's limiter-

 _Oh god. I can't do this._

Fighting, the Slayer knew; gun or no gun. Even the spirit paralysis chant hadn't been that much of a stretch; she'd seen spells work, even if she'd never cast one herself. But this….

 _His limiter is divine power made solid._

It looked like a spell when Sanzo cast it. The others probably thought it _was_ a spell.

It wasn't.

Sanzo would have been the first to admit he was a lousy Buddhist. He drank. He smoked. He killed. And he had a temper you could call prickly… if you thought porcupines were sweet, cuddly fluff-balls to snuggle with.

Yet for all his flaws and all his rage and all his grief, there was a strength in his heart that terrified her. Sanzo _believed_.

 _We're all going to die._

Son Goku smirked at her.

Buffy threw herself sideways, painfully aware his claws only missed because he _wanted_ them to. Prey was no fun without a chance to fight back.

 _Willow and Giles-_

Were fighting their way free of something, if the crashing sounds from the ward were any indication. Didn't matter. If they got out here, Son Goku would only have two more idiots to kill.

 _Not like I have room to talk_ , Buffy knew, ducking what _had_ to be a deliberately slowed roundhouse kick. It still sent her reeling. _What exactly am I going to do here, except add to the body count? I haven't believed in anything since Merrick… died._

Since Lothos had murdered him. Made him murder _himself_. If she'd ever needed a miracle….

But there wasn't one. Just cold dark streets, and her Watcher's dying words, and emptiness.

 _So cold inside._

She couldn't save Merrick. She couldn't save her family from falling apart. She couldn't save Angel.

 _Everything I love dies. Worse… I kill it._

Like she'd killed Xander, and everyone he would slaughter, by not being fast enough-

 _Oh._

Felt like just a punch, at first. Then the claws pulled out with an awful sucking sound, and wiggled redly in front of her eyes. Vision blurring, she still saw her opponent's wicked smile… even as she felt a keening, panicked grief that _wasn't hers_.

 _Oh, Xander. Poor Xander._

And it wasn't right. It wasn't _right_. She was the Slayer. She was supposed to protect people from the monsters. Even the ones inside themselves. She'd saved Giles from Eyghon, hadn't she? Because he was a friend, because it was the right thing to do, because no matter what stupid things he might have done in the past he was _not_ dying on her-

 _Because I'm the hero._

And heroes didn't get miracles. Heroes _were_ the miracle. Power Girl pulling innocent bystanders from an avalanche. Frodo breaking the Watchers' will with Galadriel's light.

 _I am the light in dark places, when all hope seems lost._

 _Let me be a light in this one._

It wasn't reaching out. It wasn't calling. The power was _there_. It was always there, a heartbeat away from reality. Clarity washed over her; sunlight, in the eye of the storm.

The chant was just an afterthought.

* * *

Wrapped in a bathrobe, Mayor Richard Wilkins III peered sleepily into a certain small, usually locked room in his quiet house. One of his early-warning talismans had woken him from a sound sleep, which was precisely what it was _for_ , but knowing that didn't quell the wish that whatever new demon was in town had waited for a more civilized hour-

His eyes fell on the red-glowing scroll in question, and all thoughts of sleep vanished. That wasn't a talisman to detect demons. Rather the opposite, in fact.

 _An uncorrupt priest, in Sunnydale?_ Not that it didn't happen, but rarely was any still-good holy man able to summon even a flicker of divine power on the Hellmouth-

The glow suddenly shifted up the spectrum, red through yellow through paling blue….

Wilkins flung up an arm to shield his face, as the whole room blazed with light.

Darkness. And as he blinked dancing spots out of his vision-

The scroll was gone. Not torn. Not ashes. _Gone._

"Well, gosh," the mayor muttered. "What's a saint doing in Sunnydale?"

* * *

 _She did it!_ Willow exulted, as gold shimmered into solidity and Xander collapsed.

"Oh, dear Lord," Giles breathed, rushing forward.

 _Huh?_ The scent of blood hit her nose, and Willow blanched. _Aw, no…._

Giles pushed Xander to the side, ignoring the boy's bloody hands. "Don't try to move-"

 _"No names."_

"I'd say don't try to talk, but that's obviously a lost cause," Giles said dryly, gathering green energy to slow the bleeding. "Why on earth…. Oh. Dear."

Frozen, armed, angry guys in uniform all facing the elevator. Willow had to all but sit on her hands to keep from going over there and tipping one over. "Nice," she grinned. "Um… why are there soldiers here?"

"Backer," Buffy gritted out, not fighting as Giles picked her up. "Get moving!"

"Stairs, then," Giles murmured, tipping his head toward Willow.

 _Oh. Right!_ She scooped Xander up, careful that the diadem stayed on… and shaking her head to try to dislodge the weirdness of being able to lift Xander in the first place. He was taller than she was. Way more muscled - though the change seemed to have burned some of that away, leaving him less solid, more lithe and wiry.

She carried him into the stairwell, light as pillows.

"Go up," Buffy got out after the door closed. "I know… someplace they won't look."

"In a moment." Giles freed one bloody hand, and _concentrated_ -

Violet sparkled down the stairs, scattering the scent of blood in its wake.

"Let them follow that, if they're so inclined," he said grimly, gingerly climbing upward. "Where are we going? Hakuryuu can become a jeep, not a helicopter. And never mind your wounds, with your fever alone we shouldn't move you-"

 _"Move,"_ came the low, familiar growl. "They said CDC… lying… you want to be youkai in government hands?" A few panting breaths. "Kid's ward. Look for… death aura. Demon killed Tina… room should be empty…."

"We're moving!" Willow blurted. The scent of Buffy's blood was getting worse, not better. "Stop talking!"

"'Kay…."

Two doors, three - and even under the bite of disinfectants, the stench of violent death lingered. Willow pushed in first, scanning the room to be sure it was clear before giving Giles the nod.

Laying the Slayer down on the empty bed, he stepped back, and swayed.

"Sit." Willow suited words to actions, nudging Giles toward one of the visitors' chairs before she dumped Xander in a boneless heap at the foot of the bed.

"I should-"

"She's the Slayer. She's not going to die if you take a minute to get hold of yourself." She hated saying it, but - somebody had to be practical. And her Xander-shaped friend was down for the count.

 _Not so much Xander-shaped, anymore._ Willow patted the brown hair spiking over the diadem, oddly reassured by its earthy, not-quite-human scent. _Youkai. But at least he doesn't smell sick anymore._ She lifted her hand to sniff red-dusted knuckles. _Neither do I. Still feel like hell, but - I think the worst is over. For us, anyway; Giles still smells lousy-_

Realization struck, and Willow tapped the Watcher on the shoulder. "Take off your limiters."

"What? Willow, are you-"

"Xander's _better_ now," Willow said quickly. "The limiters are keeping you human when your own blood's going youkai. I think the two magics are tearing each other up. Like - like an auto-immune reaction. Take them off. Just for a minute."

"You _know_ how perilous-"

"There's no Minus Wave!" Willow said impatiently. "You'll be fine. Son Goku's youkai is nuts 'cause of five hundred years of solitary confinement, Sanzo didn't have enough time in the last life to more than start on calming him down. But Cho Hakkai _isn't crazy_." She closed her hand on air, summoning her shakujou. "Just a _minute_ , Giles. I'll take my chances."

"It's not… that I think I'd hurt you…." Grimly, he plucked off the ear cuffs.

Poised and ready, Willow watched the tracery of vines sweep over pale skin, the heat-shimmer of magic as human flesh shifted to something _other. If he's going to jump me, it's going to be-_

Emerald cat-eyes looked up at her; tired, but clear. "I suppose I thought it would hurt as much as… the last time."

Oh. Yeah. All kinds of bad memories there. Put that together with Ms. Calendar having Kanan's life in her head - ouch. "You look better," Willow offered. _You look younger. Wow, hottie librarian Watcher youkai… bad Willow, you've got a boyfriend-_ "I've got to call Oz! Because soldiers, Backer, werewolves-"

"Werewolf, currently locked in the library cage, unable to take phone calls," Giles reminded her wryly. "He should be fine. We can warn him tomorrow-" His voice trailed off, and he gave her a rueful, fanged smile. "You're very good at distraction."

"Oh, good- I mean, I am?" Willow blinked innocently at him.

"But I need to see." Giles looked down at his hands, flexing the lethal claws. "I need to accept what's happened. We all do, or we'll be no help to Buffy. And she'll need us now more than ever. As if the Slayer and the Hellmouth weren't demon-magnets enough!"

"The sutra," Willow realized, and felt like kicking herself. "You think it's real? But - Buffy didn't use it to stop Xander!"

"I'm not certain she could. Not then." One by one, Giles slipped the cuffs back onto a pointed ear; sighed, as skin and bone slipped back to human appearance.

"Huh?" Willow scrunched her eyebrows at him, confused. "But she remade the limiter!"

"Yes, she did. And I imagine her reaction to that may be… extreme."

"Sanzo?" Willow pointed out, as Giles poured more energy into the healing wound. "Since when is he not extreme?" She frowned. "Now what?"

"I'm not certain." Giles lifted each of Buffy's hands, frowning at dark-bruised nails.

"Looks like she got caught in a door, or something," Willow offered.

"Or something, I would imagine," Giles said thoughtfully, sniffing. "I've not Xander's nose, and I think she washed - but there's blood on her. Not human. Given that, and her statement that this room's former occupant was killed by a demon.…"

"Fever of a hundred and five, and she's still gotta go Slay stuff?" Willow groaned.

"It's not entirely a voluntary impulse," Giles admitted. "A Slayer _needs_ to hunt. Almost as much as some of the more predatory youkai. With a fever removing normal rational judgment… well, there are reasons Slayers have Watchers." He sniffed again, and shook his head. "There are too many drugs left in her system for me to pick it out. And she seems to be resting comfortably."

"Dressed, with a gun?"

Giles arched a brow at her. "Are you volunteering to take it off?"

As one, the pair of them looked at the sleeping blonde; still, except for the occasional twitch of a trigger finger.

"…Maybe in the morning," Willow suggested. "Rock, paper, scissors for first watch?"

"I believe I've a better idea." Opening the room's small window, he whistled.

"Cheep?" Hakuryuu winged in, rubbing his cheek along Giles'.

"Good to see you again, too," Giles murmured. "Jam the door, Willow, and let's see what we can do with one bed, two chairs, and whatever else is in here…."

* * *

Spike tapped his fingers on the arm of his wheelchair, casting a jaundiced eye at the still-smoldering master vampire leading what was left of their sorry lot. Drusilla was curled up in a ball whimpering, half their former minions were dust, and he was damn lucky he'd made a habit of always setting up a backup day-shelter near any current lair. "See if I'm hearing this right. After all this time playing mind games with the Slayer and leaving gag gifts in her friends' beds, you decide to take it up a notch. But instead of a nice, simple brawl that would leave them in hospital or dead, you go off and cast a spell to toy with their minds some more… and it turns them into _demon slayers?_ "

"Hey, it was supposed to just hit the Watcher!" Angelus defended himself. "And that damn gypsy. Her tribe kept me under their little curse thumb for almost a century. They have to _suffer_." The dark-haired vampire smirked. "And will she ever. You saw the legend."

 _I did_ , Spike thought darkly, rolling over to the small pile of occult texts they'd rescued from the Factory. _Believe I'd like to read it again._

"Every time she looks at him now, the bitch will see her twin brother. The murderer who became a demon himself. Her _lover_." Angelus snickered. "Buffy's finished. This? Is going to rip her cozy little hunting group to _pieces_."

"Bit more concerned about them shredding us first," Spike muttered, pulling out the right scroll. He could still see the casual flash of fire as the robed Slayer let off a full volley of rounds at his minions, every last one finding its mark.

 _Bullets_ turning vampires to dust. It just wasn't bloody _possible_ -

Wait a moment. He had heard of that happening once, a long time ago; centuries before he'd been born, much less turned. A primitive gun in the hand of a mad Puritan turned demon slayer in darkest Africa… what was his name?

 _Kane. Solomon Kane. Hunter I fed off back in Prague called him a saint of hunters… as if a Protestant could be saint of anything. Officially, at least._

"Lost gods, tied with red knots," Drusilla half-sang to herself, rocking back and forth on a dusty crate. "Did you hear the cicada? It's learning to sing. Like golden bells."

"Lost gods?" Angelus said in disbelief. "Dru, it's just the Slayer and her whiny friends. Same as always."

Only paying enough attention to make sure the bastard wasn't right behind him, Spike unrolled fragile paper. Thank goodness for the chaos of the Boxer Rebellion; no one had looked too much askance at a white foreigner wanting to learn to read Chinese. Another sheet, and… here. Demon-slayer, once human, turned demon himself after slaughtering a thousand of the centipede demon tribe to rescue his sister-wife. Only to see her suicide in front of him. Nasty, twisted, unhappy ending; just the sort of story Angelus liked best. Last few characters were blotted out, though, some sort of blood….

Hello there. Unroll the scroll just a little more, and there was readable text again. Hmm. Invocation to the merciful goddess Kannon, spiritual deeds of high and mighty adventure-

 _Oh, bloody hell._

"Think you missed the second act," Spike said dryly, tracing his finger along those characters still legible. "Sometime after your demon-slayer's bint took a dirt nap, he got a summons from the goddess Kannon, along with a red-headed water sprite and some sort of supernatural monkey. All three of them were called to be guardians for one of Kannon's… hmm, nephew can't be right, must mean favored servant. A priest. With, and I quote, 'hair like the sun, and demon-eyes of twilight'."

"Buffy?" Angelus said in disbelief.

"Journey into the West… lot of smears, but the word _demon_ keeps popping up… some sort of major hellish uprising, looks like." Spike glanced up. "Can't tell from this which side won. Are you sure that spell's finished?"

"Break the bust of Janus, the spell ends," Angelus said impatiently. "That's how it worked on Halloween." He snapped his fingers. "Come on, Dru. Let's get Roller-Boy out of here before he catches a cold."

Spike bristled, but kept the insults behind his teeth. Better to stay mum, and keep his hands on the scroll, so he could see if anyone out there had more information. First, because on Halloween, those not in spell-touched costumes didn't change. And second….

The scroll made several references to the priest. Holy, reverent, most favored, all that rot… but there was one mention that stood out.

 _Golden Cicada Child._

Maybe that poofter Angelus was right. Maybe it was just a spell-caused fluke, and they'd be back to Scooby-taunting tomorrow night. But if it wasn't….

 _What on earth is a Sanzo priest?_

And why did he have the oddest feeling the universe was snickering at him?


End file.
